


Adorned By You

by Winklepicker



Series: Thomerson Drabbles [2]
Category: Peter Rabbit (2018), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, paterson
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 16:36:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14476776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winklepicker/pseuds/Winklepicker
Summary: Ehm, I managed to prompt myself withthis shotby imagining this is Paterson’s view after Thomas has apologised for accidentally composting a few loose sheets of poems and still can’t look him in the eye.





	Adorned By You

**Author's Note:**

> And I’ll apologise for the woejous attempt at poetry, which was inspired by fixing Thomas's sad Bananagrams with the [happier antonyms.](https://78.media.tumblr.com/cb2e35ee845560dc7812c3aa7918161d/tumblr_inline_p7y9ypZf3c1u2ispf_540.jpg)

“You’re just saying that,” said Thomas. It was barely a whisper. Barely a breath. 

Only with his mouth along his jaw and his ear close to Thomas’s mouth could Paterson make out the strangled words. He pushed up onto his elbows and contemplated the man beneath him. The furrowed brow, the full mouth pulled down at the sides, but most of all the sea-green (with a hint of battleship grey) eyes that refused to meet his.

“It was an accident. It’s not your fault or anyone else’s.”

Thomas turned his head further, staring blankly out the window at the grey morning.

That shell, that ear—presented to him for snuffling at and nibbling. So Paterson did. He nuzzled behind it, ran the tip of his nose along the warm ridges inside, then let his lips follow, darting his tongue out to catch the lobe and draw it in to suckle at gently. His hand came up to play and tease at Thomas’s collar, toying with the top button and delving to the warm smooth skin beneath. Thomas didn’t move.

With a long drawn in breath Paterson drew away and rolled off him. He curled onto his side and waited. 

Thomas turned his head to face the ceiling again and covered his eyes with his hands. “You don’t understand,” he mumbled beneath his palms. “It was utter chaos. The wind was gusting like you wouldn’t believe—it must’ve blown your pages out the window and onto the lawn, I tripped in a damn rabbit hole, my back hit the lawn mower and sent it rolling off on its own right over your poems.”

Paterson opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut again as Thomas continued.

“I tried piecing them together—I have all the pieces and, you know, I may just be able to do it if I think of it as a very elaborate jigsaw puzzle.”

Paterson slipped his arms around Thomas’s shoulders, one hand covering the top of his head, the other cradling his face. As though he could keep guard and bar the way for every negative thought that tried to get past him. 

“How can I possibly apologise enough?” Thomas uncovered his face and clutched at Paterson’s arm.

Paterson’s body shook with repressed chuckles. He didn’t mean to laugh, but Thomas’s woebegone dramatics were best treated with lightness and warmth. His big hands curled tighter around Thomas’s head, his leg hooked over drawing them closer together.

“I’ll write others.” The tip of his nose traced a path down the line of Thomas’s jaw.

“Well of course you will but those ones are gone forever.”

“Maybe they were meant to be lost,” Paterson murmured, his lips now joining his nose in its expedition across stubbled terrain.

“You’re just saying that,” Thomas said, louder this time, and closed his eyes.

Paterson let go a long sigh. He turned Thomas’s face to his and pressed a kiss to his brow, puffing warmth over his own fingers.

“Did I mention I wrote a poem for you today?”

Thomas’s eyes shot open. “I don’t deserve a poem,” he said, the very model of a dejected puppy before he brightened. “Did you really?”

“Yes.” He kissed the tip of Thomas’s nose, lingering a moment to feel the breath on his lips. “You want to hear it?”

“I don’t deserve it.” Thomas turned his head away. He turned it right back. “Yes please.” He wriggled onto his side, his head still cradled, and buried his face into Paterson’s neck.

“Okay. It’s a work in progress though so. Yeah. Here goes.

“I’m adorned by you  
Together or apart makes no difference  
I wonder if people see it, see you  
Shining out of me like lights on a Christmas tree  
It’s a weak metaphor to describe your love  
You are a compassionate sun eclipsed by pain  
I want to be a balm for your caustic sabotage  
Because I wish you’d accept yourself  
The way you accepted me  
A whole  
Not picked apart  
But held  
There’s probably an app for that  
I wouldn’t know.”

Thomas was silent, though Paterson could feel his eyelashes working hard against his pulse.

“What do you think?” he asked when the silence had gone too long for comfort.

“I love it.” There was a distinct crack to Thomas’s voice. The sort that had Paterson deploying snuggle defence 6.0.

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I don’t understand it all but it sounds lovely.” Thomas’s lips moved against Paterson’s neck, his own humid little sanctuary. They kept moving after he stopped talking.

“You know I’m not leaving, right?” Paterson’s thumb stroked over Thomas’s cheekbone.

“I never thought you were.” Somehow Thomas wriggled closer, managing to turn the already zero space between their bodies into negative numbers.

“Sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“That’s my brave, handsome, confident boy.”

Thomas was silent for a moment, his fingers fiddling with the hem of Paterson’s t-shirt before he whispered, “You’re just saying that.”

Paterson sucked his cheeks in and prepared for battle once more.


End file.
